Bloodline

I’d first met him when I’d been an eighteen-year-old budding amateur jockey and he had agreed to me riding one of his horses in my first ever race. I hadn’t expected it to be the beginning of a firm friendship, especially as I’d missed the start, never recovered my position, and finished tailed-off last. But Harry hadn’t appeared to mind and he had slapped me reassuringly on the back. We’d been firm ‘racecourse’ friends ever since, although I’d no idea where he lived and, I suspect, he had no idea where I did either.

‘Fancy a drink?’ he asked.

‘Harry, I would have loved to, but I’m commentating and they’re almost on their way out of the paddock. Some other time.’

‘You workers.’ He laughed. ‘No sense of priority.’

I wondered again where his money came from. He had a sizable string of racehorses, both jumpers and flat, and there was no shortage of readies available for entertaining in private boxes around the country’s racecourses.

I made it back into the commentary box just in time to describe the horses for the fourth race as they emerged out onto the course and made their way to the one-mile start.

‘First going down is Jetstar in the red jacket with the white crossbelts. Next is Superjumbo in the white with a red circle and black cap.’ I looked down at my notes and also at my folded copy of the Racing Post with its diagrams of the jockeys’ silks. ‘Rogerly comes next in the blue and white quarters and hooped cap followed by Scusami, the favourite, in the yellow jacket with the light blue stars and cap.’ I watched Clare cantering Scusami down the course and wondered again what was going on in that head of hers underneath the light blue cap. ‘Lounge Lizard is next in the green and white stripes, with Tournado in the pink with dark green epaulettes and cap completing the line-up for the John Holmes Construction Limited Stakes over a mile, the big race of the day here at Lingfield.’

I clicked off my microphone.

Six runners over a mile on the round track. Easy-peasy.

I pushed a button on my control box and the latest betting odds for the race came up on my monitor.

‘Scusami is still favourite and his price has shortened to five-to-four. Superjumbo is at threes, as is Rogerly; five-to-one for Tournado, sixes Lounge Lizard, with Jetstar the rank outsider at twenty-five-to-one.’

I turned off my mike and switched the monitor to show the horses as they circled at the start.

For a race with a very large field, like the Grand National, I would have spent some time the previous evening studying the colours but, mostly, I learned them in the last few minutes before the off. If I tried absorbing six or seven races’ worth all together I would simply get them confused in my head.

So I learned them race-by-race and probably couldn’t describe them ten minutes after it had finished. I started each race with a clear mind, and describing the silks as the horses cantered to the start was as much part of my learning routine as for the benefit of the racegoers on the grandstands. Now I watched the horses circle on the monitor and put my finger on the image of each animal in turn while saying its name out loud. With more runners I might have gone to see them in the parade ring to give me more time, but with six... piece of cake.

‘Going behind the stalls,’ I told the crowd. ‘Scusami is still favourite at five-to-four, Rogerly now clear second at three-to-one with Superjumbo at seven-to-two; five-to-one bar those.’

I flicked the monitor back to the horses and went on putting my finger on their images and saying aloud each horse’s name.

‘Now loading,’ I said.

Derek spoke into my ear. ‘Mark, coming to you in five seconds. Four. Three. Two...’ He counted down to zero while I described the horses as they were being loaded into the starting stalls. As he reached zero, I paused fractionally so that I wasn’t actually speaking as the satellite viewers came online.

‘Just two to go now,’ I said. I briefly flicked back to the odds on my monitor. ‘Scusami is still favourite but has drifted slightly to six-to-four, with Rogerly still at threes. Just Superjumbo now still to be loaded.’

I took a small sip of water from my bottle.

‘Right, they’re all in. Ready. They’re off!’

Easy-peasy, indeed. Even my grandmother could have called this race.

Scusami jumped out of the stalls first and, as an established front runner, he never relinquished the position. He was only briefly challenged in the home straight by Superjumbo but, when Clare asked him for a response, it was instant and dramatic. She only once raised her whip, mostly riding the horse out with hands and heels to a comfortable three-length victory with the others trailing past the winning post in line astern.

‘I’ll make you a copy of that one too,’ said Derek into my ears. ‘What a great horse. Must be a good bet for the Guineas.’